There is nothing quite as exhilerating as driving a vintage automobile, while trading attention to the road with glances at the oil temperature gauge, and having a general sense of at-one-ness with the vehicle... this evening I charged the battery on the corvette... it was a brisk spring evening, and just after sundown i set my sights for the nearest petrol station with barely a hair above empty, and something under 15 lbs of air in my rear left piece of meat. i filled up for $3.50 a gallon, which I have determined is the closest thing I have ever experienced to being taken advantage of in the most compromising sort of ways.
After a quick stop at the air compressor, I was on La Jolla Villiage drive headed Eastbound. I took a jaunt through Mesa, at a gentle pace, to try and familiarize my future neighbors with the sound of a late '60's autocross racer, but they didn't seem to have any appreciation for the gesture. Not a soul was to be seen as I crossed Eastgate Mall Road over the 805 and towards the airbase. At the on-turn to Miramar Rd. I crept up behind a current model japanese sportbike... inch by inch... slowly... until the light was about to turn green, and I hit him with my fog lamps. His crotchrocket was basked in a sea of yellow light. From the outside left turn lane, he took number 3, the jeep in the inside left turn took number 1, and I was off to the races.
Imagine the surprise of that poor fellow as he smelt the dastardly stench of my richly-tuned secondaries wafting up and into his helmet. No matter, by the time I shifted into second gear he was a good twenty yards behind me. Must have been a commuter.
Then I transitioned through the cool canyons between miramar, mira mesa, and lastly sorrento mesa. No need for auxilliary fans here; the soothing valley air is a good fifteen to twenty degrees cooler than ambient, and the engine tells me it likes it's jaunt through the old Vulcan quarries. Carving a line up Camino Santa Fe towards my old haunt, I've never felt more in command of my surroundings.
Now, back towards the ocean I beckoned the beast. A mostly straight shot Westward down Sorrento Mesa. Not a soul in sight. Just me and the young spring moon spy upon this gentle stretch between Lopez Ridge and the plunge into the valley which lies ahead.
Coming in hot in third gear downhill at 12 degrees decline, and shifting down into second, the creature beneath me pipes up two octaves as I feel the dense valley air begin to lift up beneath the fuselage of the vessel. More power, seemingly endless amounts, make themselves known as I twist past the trailhead to penasquitos canyon. Then, topping the soothing crest between wildlife preserve and industrial zoning, I switch off my driving lights and shift back into third gear... and i drift on into the night just like any other commuter after a long day at the office and a relaxing release of restraint along this memorable loop of local roads I've driven since my late adolescence. | 
